


Izzy's Place

by calliopemoonbeam



Category: Outlander, Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 1990s, Art Theft, Isabella Stewart Gardener, Jaime and Claire, Jaime x Claire, Last Seen, Outalnder Fanfic, Outlander - Freeform, Outlander AU, Outlander Heist Story, Podcast crossover, museum, outlander fanfiction, outlander fic, outlander modern au, outlander modernish au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopemoonbeam/pseuds/calliopemoonbeam
Summary: Summary -Jaime and Claire meet trying to steal the same painting for Dougal. Jaime is smitten, Claire is unsure. Years later, they find themselves involved in one of the biggest art heists in history at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Lightly intertwined with info from the Last Seen podcast about the still unsolved heist.)





	1. Chapter 1 - The Orkney Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Chapter 1 can also be read as a one shot and includes prompts from Gotham’s Writing Workshop
> 
> A/N - So I had this idea for a second story, I know, I know, I JUST started writing my first one - This Life - but this other one appeared and I wanted to participate in some @gotham-ruaidh writing workshop fun. I don’t think this is really how those prompts are intended to be used, but here they are woven into the text of this little brain bunny. I used 32 out of 33 of the prompts through the text here. It’s just how it came out, I couldn’t stop it last night once I got started. (Week 2′s prompt, can be found as an explanation instead of directly.)
> 
> There was a museum heist in 1990 at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. It has never been solved. There’s a new podcast, Last Seen, about this legendary heist and it is awesome. After listening to the third episode this week, I thought, Ok, Jaime and Claire need to be put into that heist story. So that’s what’s happening here. .  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------

“Which door?” I whispered to my wife.

“He’s going to prop it open for a minute, then close it. Keep watching. It will be 20 minutes until he opens it again, that’s our signal.” She relayed softly.

“Are ye sure about this Claire? We can still turn back.”

“And tell Randall what? You can’t dwell on it. We’re here, it’s happening.” She snapped back.

I sighed, she was right. She was usually right, but I had so many doubts.

——————————————————

**C POV**

My life and childhood were hard to explain to people, especially strangers. They simply had no reference point, no anchor to grasp onto to make it real for them, they couldn’t relate. It was all too unreal, the travel, the Indiana Jones (their reference, not mine) aspects of it, and most of all the pain of someone so young. Eventually I stopped trying and made up a story that everyone could understand instead. But when I met Jaime, he knew, he got it, he was the same. He had experienced loss. He too was in the course of running away from his previous life, and himself, just like I was. Every time I asked, “You want to hear more?” He responded with enthusiastic encouragement that allowed me to release the truths of my life back out into the world and grow closer with him everyday.

We had met five years earlier trying to steal the same painting from the Skaill House in Orkney, Scotland in 1984. The house had long since been in disrepair and retained its secrets as it passed from Laird to Laird over the course of 4 centuries. In 1977, the house was listed as a building of Scottish Historical Interest. It had been rumored that the 11th Laird kept a never before seen Rembrandt that had been passed down in his family for generations. Even though the neolithic site of Skara Brae could be found on the property, the house itself remained a private family home. It was one of those urban legends of the art world, that most wouldn’t have given a second thought. We were different, though. Fugitives from the law of averages, we had survived loss as children, made our own way in the world and used our respective talents and intellect to see us through all the woe we possessed. Each of us through our own path and of our own accord, entered the same world, art theft.

I caught his imposing figure from the opposite side of the boat. He was striking. He could have just as easily have been a Viking warrior conquering 11th century Orkney, as a man from this century going on holiday. The turquoise, emerald and topaz of the sea lapped against the bow of ferry as I took him in, making myself as invisible as possible. The bad weather made it a rough ride, bobbing the ferry up and down with the swells. I could see that even though desperately beautiful, he was as green as could be, barely hanging onto the contents of his stomach. I longed to save him. But, why bother? I was here to work. I needed to stay in the shadows.

I went for the door, to head to the center more stable part of the ship. I grabbed a coffee, parked myself at a table and began to work. So much work remained. I lacked a solid exit strategy. I needed to rent a boat as soon as I get into the harbor. I tended to draw when I need to think, not related to mission of course, but something from a memory of a time gone past, a landscape, an animal, a temple I had seen while traveling with my Uncle before he died. It eased my mind and helped me put the pieces of each job together. I was deep in thought when I realized I had eyes on me. I looked up to see the red headed giant of a seasick man I had seen from earlier. I smiled. He smiled. The smile was a little forced but it lasted. I owed it to his rumbling stomach.

**J POV**

Clinging to the side rail of the ferry, I said a silent prayer, “God, help me.” I knew boats were a problem for me before I got on, but the score was just too big to pass up. With each breath and rock of the sea, my brain fought with itself, “I can’t go on….breathe….I’ll go on.” As I battled with myself, my body and the sea, I caught a flash of brown unruly curls out of the corner of my eye. I tried not to stare as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen stepped inside the ship deck. I longed to follow her immediately. Not yet, my brain told me. I waited.

Eventually, steading myself, trying to regain my composure, I followed her in. I found her at a table drawing, lost in thought, curls now whipped up into a bun on the top of her head. I knew I shouldn’t stare but it was impossible. I could barely stand but I would have stood for hours watching her, if she hadn’t caught me.

We both smiled. A silent stillness between our eyes as the met. Somehow I felt better, grounded even though my feet barely kept contact with the floor with the rocking of the boat. My body made its way over to her of its own volition. I couldn’t resist trying to speak to her. I was drawn to her.

“Ma chuimhnich thu i còmhla, mo nighean donn?” “I understand none of those things.” “Sorry, can I join ye?” She eyed me curiously and relented, motioning her hand to the open seat next to her. We fell into an easy conversation. It was like I had known her for years. I had never experienced ease with a stranger like this in all my years. We spoke of her drawing, why she was going to Orkney - holiday she said, where she was from - the world, and as much as we could in the remaining half an hour before pulling into the port of Stromness.

I’d rather not love anyone, but I knew as soon as I saw her that all of my well established walls keeping the world out would fall just for her. I wanted to tear them down just for her. I wanted to invite her to dinner, listen to her talk for ages, share my history with her. I wanted to share the same air as her. But all too soon, it was quick goodbyes and nice to meet yous, as everyone scurried off the ship in a blob and went their own ways. I tried to catch a glimpse of those curls and that divine arse she carried with her among the crowd once on shore but she was gone. I slumped, deflated and set out to do what I came for.

**C POV**

The night before I was to put my plan into place I lay wide awake in my B&B wondering if I would see the ginger viking again roaming around the island. It wasn’t that big after all, and he wasn’t hard to pick out of crowd. He had said he was a writer, researching some of the runes at Maeshowe for a fictional story. It seemed believable enough but something in me knew he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. My mind conjured up his turquoise eyes as I finally drifted off to the dream world and slept.

I visited the Neolithic Site of Skara Brae the next day. Sure the site was interesting and Uncle Lamb had talked about what a marvel it was that a near 5,000 year old settlement survived under the earth for thousands of years only to be revealed after a ferocious storm. In the years I spent with my Uncle before his death, I did become interested in history and archaeology, but mostly his passion for it was what engaged me. The beauty with which he laid out an ancient civilization, painting the scene with his words was mesmerizing. I credit him with my love of art. Though I’m not so sure he would have liked the stealing art bit.

I surveyed the area throughout the day, walking the beach and the opposite coast line, binoculars in tow, memorizing the layout of the area. A contact of mine, who would fence the painting if I could come back with it, had someone one the inside. It was the most common way to pull an art heist but it was also the first place people looked when something was stolen, the internal staff was always suspect.

I knew where the painting was being kept, tucked behind a rotating book set of bookcases with no alarm. The house was the only building for miles in an area of open land. The island was also a close knit community. They didn’t think anyone knew about the painting, never mind that anyone would plot to steal it, so there was no security. It was akin to a home burglary, not a museum heist. It was still risky and I kept that in my mind as I went over each step in my mind.

I returned that night on foot, tools strapped to my back, black paint on my face like I was ready for war. The waxing moon rose as I walked across the fields, giving me just enough light to see my way over the pitch black Orkney landscape. 30 yards from the house, I tripped over a rock and soon found myself flung to the ground, a heavy mass on my chest. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” I gasped realizing the mass was human, and I now had an arm to my throat, and a dagger shining in my face. Looking up past the blade I saw turquoise eyes, “No, just me Sassenach,” the man from the boat said still resting on top of me, holding me in place. Time stilled, an electrical charge sparked between our eyes, and our bodies, it was there with every breath, as we lay immobilized in a compromising position.

Regaining my wits I pushed him off of me. Even though it was plain as day, I still aggressively whispered “What the hell are you doing here?” He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. “I assume the same thing as ye.”

Completely put off by him mucking up my job, I grilled him, keeping my voice as low as possible even though we were a distance from the house. It turns out my contact and his were the same, his Uncle. The man wanted the painting so bad he had hired two people to steal it figuring at least one of them would succeed. He didn’t count on them being on the same schedule, which meant he knew one of us would likely arrive when the painting was already gone. Just which one of us was he trying to screw over? That was the biggest question.

Raging mad, the both of us, we made a pact, steal it together in secret. Both head back to Edinburgh, flip for it to see who brings the painting to Dougal and see how he reacts. His reaction the indicator of who he was trying to screw over. Then deal with it together. See it through, split the money and then go our separate ways.

Six months later we were married.

——————————————-

Stealing the Rembrandt from Skaill house ended up being one of the easiest jobs either of us had ever pulled. The painting was exactly where it was supposed to be, completely unguarded. It was just begging to be freed from its exile behind the bookcase. We left the frame with a copy of a different painting in it, that he had brought along, figuring it would take longer to get noticed that way. Then we snuck out a large round porthole window that seemed to have been perfectly designed as a getaway for an art thief.

Elated from our success, we made our way to our his vehicle since I had arrived on foot. We made straight for the port, rolled painting in tow, barely visible in in his pack. I didn’t want to let that painting out of my sight. We were in this together now, and I didn’t even know his name yet somehow I trusted him completely. I’m a thief for goodness sake, I don’t trust anyone. What is wrong with me?

We waited in his rented car and talked until the first streaks of light appeared. In the end we decided not to rent a small boat due to Jaime’s (his name I had finally learned) sea sickness. The bigger boat was better and much less conspicuous. We drove the three hours down to Inverness, returned his rental car and got on the train to Edinburgh.

**J POV**

The train whisked through the forests of Scotland, as an angel lay sleeping on my shoulder. Claire. Her name is Claire I had finally learned as the sun rose that morning. It’s hard to believe that was this morning, so much has already happened today. Literally a boat, a car and train, not to mention the new found friendship with this unique woman.

I gazed out the window in a daze, already planning our life together. I knew I might be way out on a limb but, so what? This wasn’t usual, this connection. The life I have lived, it never allowed me to consider such things, a life with another person, let alone to love someone, and yet here I was gushing inside my heart and brain about a woman I had met two days ago. As thieves, or “art procurement specialists,” we didn’t talk about such things, a stable life, marriage, a home, sharing a life fully with another person. It always seemed like an impossibility. But with her, it seemed in reach, attainable…if we could just deliver this painting and be free of my Uncle.

I knew as soon as this escapade was over, I would ask her to come home with me, permanently. I would try to temper my feelings, but at a certain point, it doesn’t really matter, she would know. She would see right through me. She has my number. She knows what I am about. I had to face who I am, who she is, I thought, and what did I do, I full on went for it.

As soon as she woke, I kissed her. I could tell she was surprised but she opened for me and we shared a kiss that was like freeing birds out of a cage, so they could rejoin their mate. This kiss told all our secrets, with unfurling tongues, longing to touch all the darkest spaces of ourselves with light only for each other.

—————————————-

A month after we met, I invited her to my ancestral home at Lallybroch, to live permanently, as I had intended to ever since I laid eyes on her that first day. “Are you sure, it’s not an imposition?” Claire asked more nervous than I had ever seen her. She wasn’t used to having a home. She was scared, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Where there is love, there is no imposition.” “Love?!” She near screeched. She had been trying to keep me at a distance all month, terrified, to let me in. I was patient as she did gentle dance of one foot in and one foot out with her heart and me. But my patience was overcome by desire to have her in my life forever, so I decided to put all my cards on the table. “Yes, love. I love ye Claire. I won’t pretend I don’t. I’ve loved ye since I set eyes on ye on that boat. I know it isn’t usual, but I know you feel it too.”

“It’s all so fast Jaime. I haven’t been able to catch my breath.” “That’s the life we live, why would this be any different.”

She heard the truth of my words. We lived a fast life, danger around every corner. And I did love her. Desperately. It was there on my face every time I looked at her. It was plain for all the see, especially her.

It didn’t take as much convincing as I expected. We moved to Lallybroch the next week. As we pulled up to the manor house, Claire eyed it and said with a smirk, “It seems like a nice neighborhood to have bad habits in.” “”Aye, I think so too.” I said as I scooped her up, threw her over my shoulder and brought her into the house.

——————————————–

Thanks for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another A/N - Skaill House is a real place and Skara Brae really is on it’s property. The room I talk about with the rotating bookcase and the porthole window are real. I’ve been there. The house opened to the public after a six year restoration in 1997. The painting part of this is obviously fiction but since the house dates back to the 1600s, when Rembrandt was alive, I thought why not. Also, if you are into Neolithic things, Orkney should be on your list. The sites there are out of this world and they are still excavating various sites every year. Skara Brae among other sites on Mainland Orkney received a UNESCO designation in 1999. So this story is before all of that. 
> 
> Ok last note - I googled the Gaelic, so if it’s wrong, blame google.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Chief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary -
> 
> Jaime and Claire meet trying to steal the same painting for Dougal. Jaime is smitten, Claire is unsure. Years later, they find themselves involved in one of the biggest art heists in history at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Lightly intertwined with info from the Last Seen podcast about the still unsolved heist.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I considered leaving this as a one shot and as an entry to gotham’s writing workshop, but then I also want to tell more of this story. So you can read Chapter 1 - The Orkney Job as a one shot if you choose or continue the story.
> 
> I’ve continued to listen to the podcast Last Seen, that this story is wrapped up with and damn it got so complicated! The heist is so unbelievable on every level. There are soooo many characters, twists, turns and general muck. It’s a challenge but I am working on it. Let me know what you think.

** Chapter 2 - The Chief **

 

**J POV**

My uncle had always been a horrible arsehole, but I couldn’t deny that he saved me once or twice. After my whole family died in a fire, I found myself the only Fraser of Broch Turach left. I had had the “good fortune” to be away at boarding school in France or so I was told. It was my Uncle who came to get me at school and told me of the tragedy. I was a mere few weeks from graduation with plans for University, but with my world turned inside out, overwhelmed with grief, at a total loss of who I was and what I was supposed to do next, I deferred University and joined my Uncle in thievery. Dougal taught me a lot but it turned out I was a natural. 

 

My grief constantly reminded me that I had nothing left to lose, I threw myself into the work. I lived for the adrenaline high of stealing, and was fearless. His men grew to trust me and eventually look to me for counsel. It wasn’t long before I felt my Uncle start to change towards me. Openly scowling when the men asked my advice on an job instead of his. He began to give me increasingly dangerous jobs. I had a feeling he was trying to punish me or maybe even off me but I could never tell for sure. I always wanted to believe him to actually care for me, being my last kin and all.

 

I remained fearless doing every job without reservation until I met Claire. Out of nowhere, I had something, nay someone, to live for again. I had a connection, a grounding, dare I hope it, a future.

 

The last thing my Uncle imagined when he sent me on the Orkney job, was the two of us walking into his office together. He was sure Claire would have made sure I got caught once she realized we were on the same job. But my Uncle had miscalculated.

 

We walked straight to his office, know as “the shop,” from the train station. We wanted to get rid the painting as soon as possible. The silence was perfect as we walked in, his face registering a flash of shock, mouth slightly agape before he quickly composed himself.

 

Skipping any prelude or small talk he got straight to the point.

 

“Well then, do ye have it?”

 

“What do ye think, Uncle.”

 

“Give it here then lad.”

 

“Nay, this is a re-negotiation.”

 

Dougal’s temper flared drawing some looks from the outer office at the volume of his voice.

 

“Nay, it isn’t. You know the rules. Once you step out that door to proceed there is no further negotiation.”

 

“Och, aye, I ken the rules, but this is different considering what you did.”

 

“And just what is that lad?” Dougal asked incredulously, keeping his veneer in tact.

 

“Uncle, you sent me to be caught!” I screamed. “Ye ken, my arse is only here because Claire took a liking to me and we happened to be on the same schedule. It is pure chance that I am not in some Orkney holding cell right now.”

 

Claire remained silent, watching from the corner of the office, arms crossed. She would later tell me that she was plotting revenge on Dougal on my behalf. At the time, I thought she was only letting things play out between family, knowing she needn’t get involved because it wasn’t her place. But oh how I wanted it to be here place.

 

My Uncle and I screamed at each other for the better part of a half hour, arms flailing, danders up, getting in each others faces. It would have come to blows if Dougal’s new number two, Jack, hadn’t split us up as I reeled my fist back. I shuddered as he touched me. 

 

I hated the new man, Jack Randall, with every cell of my being. I was against my Uncle hiring him and took it as a personal slight, since I was the natural successor. Not only that, it was clear Randall was trying to take the organization out from under my Uncle, plus he was a psychopath to boot. His reputation preceded him and he had been exiled from many organizations due to his behavior and particular penchant for torture.

 

Randall broke us up solely to endear himself to my Uncle and for no other reason. My guess is he would have greatly enjoyed us beating each other to a pulp. Shaking off his grasp with force, glancing over to Claire to make sure she was alright. Exasperated, I turned and made a solemn declaration,

 

“Uncle, I’m done. I’m out. I’ll do your bidding no longer. My life is my own.” I turned on my heels grabbed Claire by the hand and stormed out, without so much as a look back.

 

“As you say, but ye’ll no take my best freelancer with ye.” He motioned at Claire. I knew he wouldn’t let me off so easy, even if he appeared to be letting me go.

 

I turned to Claire, but she was already spitting fighting words back at my Uncle, fists clenched at her sides, muscles of her neck tense.

 

“NO ONE SPEAKS FOR ME. See the key word in that sentence is, freelancer, Dougal. I am not your property and I don’t actually work for you. I am free to do as I please. Right now it pleases me to get the fuck away from all of you. So much so that you can keep my fee in exchange for never contacting me again,” she said storming out, muttering “Bloody Scots” under her breath.

 

Randall huffed and looked her up in a way that terrified me as she walked out.

 

With that I threw my keys to the shop at both of them and left, nearly breaking the glass in the door on the way out.

 

—————————————-

It took me two days to track Claire down. She had gone to ground. Our paths had never crossed at the shop before, so I enlisted my cousin, Rupert, who was loyal to me before Dougal. He had worked with her before and knew more about her. He thought she might have bunked up with a forger friend of hers in Morningside.

 

I tentatively knocked on the door of a house with a beautiful garden out front. I wasn’t sure I had the right place, much of the flora and fauna looked foreign and I had a hard time believing it grew in the Scottish weather. A red headed woman opened the doors and green eyes slowly raised up my body to mine and curiously took me in.

 

“Och, ehm, ah…is Claire at here?” I said as she eyed me suspiciously now.

 

“And jest who might ye be?”

 

“Jaime. We met recently and I’ve been trying to find her for two days. My cousin Rupert said ye might ken where she is or that she might be here with ye.”

 

Just as she was deciding whether or not to let me in. Claire sleepily wandered across the doorway, robe clad, coffee in hand, curls dancing, barely glancing at the door. “Claire!” She stopped at the sound of my   
voice, and turned to look at me.

 

“Jaime!” She said surprised, taking me in. Geillis eyed Claire. “I guess you better let him in Geillis. I met him a few days ago on a job, I suppose we’ve some things to discuss.” She let me pass but then Claire hurriedly pulled her into the other room as I stood in the hallway, examining the posh house.

 

**C POV**

“Claire! Ye met a man that looks like that and ye didna tell me?!”

 

I shushed her with a finger to my lips knowing Jaime was just in the hall.

 

“I didn’t think it was important. It was just some complication on my last freelance job…although we did kiss…”

 

Truth be told, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since I stormed out of the shop but I still didn’t know why he was here or how he had found me. I wondered if he and Dougal had mended fences and he sought me out to bring me back into the fold. I also wondered about that kiss on the train on the way back from Orkney…my mind wandering back to the feel of his lips on mine, how perfect his tongue felt in my mouth…snap out of it Claire.

 

“Those lips are not a complication Claire,” Geillis growled at me. “If ye dinna want him, can I have him…” I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly fell over. Finally, I persuaded Geillis to retire to her studio so Jaime and I could speak alone.

 

I closed the glass doors of the sitting room behind me and motioned him into the kitchen that opened to a solarium. I poured us some tea and we sat.

 

“So what can I do for you Jaime,” I said as coldly and detached as I could, all the while trying desperately not to stare at his lips.

 

“Sassenach, ye ran out the other day, I’ve been looking for ye,” he said with a slight desperation in his voice.

 

Hands clasped around my tea cup, I shrugged. “I’m not sure why, it’s clear the job is done. My ties are severed.”

 

His adams apple bounced as he swallowed deeply. “…What about our ties?”

 

“Hmm, what ties are those Jaime?” I planned on drawing this out as long as possible, causing him to show his whole hand. Since he walked in the door I had been at a disadvantage and that was not a place I liked to dwell. I was determined to get the upper hand with him.

 

Jaime cleared his throat and sighed. I recognized it as him submitting, giving in to whatever he was here to say.

 

“Claire, we are drawn to each other, it’s clear. Can ye no see it? That kiss on the train, how well we worked together in Orkney. All of it. I thought I had lost ye forever when you left the shop. Now that I’ve found ye, I canna be parted from ye. ”

 

Ok, admittedly, that’s not what I thought he was going to say, I thought as my stomach started to tighten.

 

“You’re insane. We spent 48 hours together out of necessity. We’re thieves. We’re unstable. You’ve lost your mind.”

 

“Ye ken it’s the truth. It was no chance we met like that in the middle of nowhere with the same purpose. It was fate.”

 

“You must be joking. You’re an art thief, how can you believe in fate?”

 

“Oh aye, I am, but ye ken, I am also a highlander, born and raised. And ye canna make light of the mysterious workings of the world. There are always things beyond our ken.”

 

That upper hand I thought I was gaining, was slowly slipping out of my grasp. I don’t know why but I started to soften towards Jaime. Maybe it was the fact that there wasn’t even a faint glimmer of doubt showing in him. Or maybe I was dying to devour his mouth. Or maybe I just wanted something to be exactly as it was for once, no game, deception, puzzle. Just pure.

 

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair under his steely blue gaze. The intensity of him was starting to seep into my skin from across the table.

 

“One chance lass. Let me take ye out tomorrow.”

 

—————————————————–

Thanks for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I have most of Chapter 3 written and it surprised me taking me where it wants to go instead of where I intended it to. Also, the podcast is getting crazy. It is totally one of those stranger than fiction stories. I suggest you check it out! “Last Seen” from WBUR.


	3. Chapter 3 - Day Date - Walk and Talk

** Chapter 3 - Day Date - Walk and Talk **

 

**C POV**

 

I gave Jaime one chance, one date. Really all he needed was 15 minutes.

Geillis was eyeing me, my outfit, my unruly hair, and my lack of makeup as I waited for Jaime to arrive. “Claire, yer’re a right mess, are ye even trying?”

“I think it is obvious that I am not. I don’t even want to go. He’s hot, but he’s dangerous. I can feel it.”

“Dangerous how?” Geillis smirked at me.

“Not like that, you perv.”

“Well I dinna ken what the problem is. At the least he is probably a great shag and if I am not mistaken that is something you definitely need.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Geillis, why am I even friends with you?”

“Ye love it. Ye need me to help you along when you are being daft. That’s what a good friend does.”

I smiled at her, she was right. She may be a mess in so many ways but she always had my best interest at heart and that was rare in my life and our business.

“I’ll tell you the same I told him, one chance. Nothing about that one chance has to require me getting all dolled up for him.”

“Whatever ye say love…at least put some heels on.”

I was dressed in an oversized jumper and a pair of skinny jeans. One of my comfiest outfits and always Edinburgh appropriate no matter the season. I submitted and put on a pair of heels, my favorite ones.

—————————————-

**J POV**

I was so nervous even though I had seen and talked to her the previous day. Her words, “One chance,” echoing in my head. I had to deliver. I never wanted to be away from her again and I had to show her that, break down all of her walls and my own. Would one chance be enough?

I rang the bell and she opened the door, fresh faced and genuinely looked happy to see me.

“Claire, you look wonderful.” She blushed ever so slightly, shoulders rising up in a sweet shrug.

“Jaime, hi. So where are we going?” “It’s a surprise, yen ken…but we’ll be on foot so you might want to change your shoes, as lovely as they are.”

“I’ll be fine.” She yelled to Geillis that she was leaving and Geillis emerged covered in paint and very little clothing. Claire rolled her eyes in a way that made me think this was not an uncommon occurrence. “Let’s go,” she said pulling me by the hand as Geillis gave me a smirk.

“She’s always like that, ever the exhibitionist. I’ve never met anyone who is so comfortable naked as her. For every piece she paints, it’s like a religious experience for her. She even does a ceremony with the paint before she starts. She swears she becomes one with the art.” Claire informed me.

I laughed. Geillis seemed as far away from Claire as a person as one could be but it was clear she loved her all the same.

We set off on foot, walking from Morningside to the base of Arthur’s Seat. Claire gave me a look that said, when you said a walk, I didn’t think you meant a hillwalk. But she was a trooper and went up in her heels anyways, not wanting to be bested by me or a pair footwear.

Our conversation from the moment we left the house was easy. We talked about everything and nothing, one subject perfectly segwaying into another without pause. The same way it had been after the robbery in Orkney as we waited for the ferry, and on the car ride and on the train. We just seemed to fit, as I knew we would. My instincts had never led me astray before and I knew they weren’t now either.

As we summited Arthur’s Seat, the wind whipped up, which it always did up there no matter the season or the whether because it was so open and exposed. I shielded an obviously freezing Claire from the wind with my body and the without thinking, I reached out my arms and collected her into my chest. She didn’t resist and nestled into my warmth like it was her home. I was elated and it took everything in my power not to kiss her in that moment. I was too afraid to mess it up. She had to come to me on her own.

I had very little plan for the day except two things, a hike, and ending up at the National Gallery. What happened in between I was resolved to leave up to fate and the energy of the day. We ended up spending the whole day together, neither of us seeming to want it to end. We took tea by the University, ate take away lunch in Princes Street Gardens and then I guided us towards the National Gallery.

When Claire realized where we were going, she gave me a look that said “really?” Our silent communication coming as natural as our verbal conversations. I squeezed her hand which had interlaced with mine sometime around tea and never let go, and guided her to the entrance of the Scottish National Gallery.

Even though we were “Art Procurement Specialists,” it turned out that we both loved art at a core level. I was so taken with Claire that I even shared one of my biggest secrets, I love to paint. No one knew, not even my Uncle. It was a quiet hobby and I used the name Alex McTavish when submitting or showing the art. She was astonished.

“I’ve seen your work. It’s so…romantic,” she whispered, eyes wide.

There in front of all of the Renaissance painters, I let my lips connect with hers as I had been longing to do all day. So much for letting her come to me. I thought as my tongue grazed her lower lip. She responded immediately, allowing the kiss to deepen. We were lost to the moment until we heard someone clearing their throat aggressively. We turned to see Jack Randall standing there watching us arms crossed, malicious smirk on his face.

“Well isn’t this some wonderful information,” he intoned sadistically. Eyeing us both up and down, giving us both the chills.

Our embrace fell, hands still connected as we turned to face him.

“Whats it to ye?” I growled at him.

“I’ve been looking for you both, and to my surprise, here you are. Makes my job a lot easier”

I could feel Claire tense beside me, as my whole body filled with rage.

“ I think we both made it clear that we will not be in the employ of my Uncle any longer.”

“You think it’s that easy do you…that you’ll just ride off into the sunset together?”

I let go of Claire’s hand in an effort not to crush it as my fists clenched at my sides.

“Dougal has a job for you both…good thing you seem to…ehm…get along. Be at the shop on Friday.”

He gave us a final terrifying look and stalked off.

Both of us visibly shaken, I turned to Claire, “I’m so sorry Claire, I shouldn’t have brought you here, it was careless. This is all my fault.”

She cupped my jaw, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “It’s not your fault and I love it here, I love being here with you. Whatever THAT was, would have been something we had to deal with anyways, either together or separately and I am just glad that it is together.”

I near near fell over in my haste to embrace her. I held her for what seemed like ages. Even with the mounting danger, I had never been happier.

**C POV**

I hated Jack Randall almost as much as I hated Dougal, no scratch that, I hated Randall more. He was a creep, he’d just as soon pay you a back handed compliment as punch you in the face. From the moment I met him, I knew him to be a madman, completely unhinged.

Jaime’s embrace after our encounter with Randall, helped sate the emotion coursing through me in the moment, but it would rise again and again on the walk back to the house. Our beautiful date day coming to an unfortunate end. We had to make a plan.

Jaime tried to make light of it, saying, “Well shite, I guess there goes my one chance, huh?”

I playfully jabbed him in the arm and then grabbed for his arse giving him as big of a smile I could muster with everything snaking through my system. Sufficiently reassured he grabbed mine back pressed me against the nearest brick wall, seeking entry to my mouth. Desperate for each other, our walk took twice the amount of time necessary, as we found ourselves tucked into back alleys, on benches, and really everywhere at intervals making out.

It wasn’t uncommon to experience a sexual desire after adrenaline raising events for me. It’s often the same after experiencing a death or pulling a successful heist. Everyone reacts differently of course. But some feel the need to connect with another person to know they exist. Sex being the vehicle. The skin to skin connection, the most primal connection, letting us know that we are indeed here and we do exist.

I was aware this might be what was happening with Jaime, but then I checked myself. What about that kiss that Randall interrupted, our perfect day together or that initial kiss on the train. No, I simply wanted Jaime.

Finally arriving at Geillis’s house, we found ourselves unable to keep our hands off each other. Our plan would have to wait.

We fell into my bed in one of the many guest rooms in my friend’s house. It was “Claire’s Room” as she always said. It was a sanctuary for me and all I wanted to do was have it be the same for me and Jaime in that moment.

Ravenous for each other, it wasn’t long before I found myself riding him and alternately being pinned by him. Adrenaline still flowing through our bodies from the run in with Randall, we were fierce, fast, loud and messy joining for the first time.

Laying on our backs, sweaty and panting, I looked over at him and giggled. It was such an unnatural feeling for me when I looked at him, comfort. Staring at the ceiling, fingers tapping nervously on his chest, he rolled over and tickled me at the sound of my giggle. Both in fits of laughter, he drew me in for a hug, clutching me to his chest placing a kiss on my shoulder.

“I’m so happy Sassenach, to be here with you, like this.” I kissed the tip of his nose and then his mouth, slowly. I made a home in his shoulder as he snuggled me in and we slept.

I woke in the middle of the night and freaked out. I shimmied out of Jaime’s embrace and went to one of the other guest rooms, not wanting to wake him.

**J POV**

I woke when the door to the bedroom opened. I realized immediately that Claire wasn’t by my side. She wasn’t at the door either, but Geillis was. She laughed when she saw me. Thankfully this time she was at least wearing a robe.

“Well, well, well, my little love finally took my advice and got herself shagged then. I thought I heard something in the night” She said looking me over and laughing.

I could feel the blush fanning out over my cheeks, as I looked at her.

“My, my, Jaime, you are quite the specimen,” she said wandering a little closer from the door.

“Can I paint ye?”

“No, under no circumstances. No.”

“Jeesh, fine…but you should let someone paint you, your body is a masterpiece.” She said shrugging, eyes a light in an extremely uncomfortable way.

With that she left in search of Claire, robe swirling around her as she left.

What in the hell was that? I thought. I’d be sure to ask Claire what that was all about. Claire! Where is Claire?

I dressed and went in search for her. I stopped outside a room when I heard sniffling. I knocked quietly but no one answered. Did I have the wrong door. I knocked again and heard a low, “ya.” I entered unsure of myself.

Claire was crying in bed. Geillis was in bed cradling her.

I rushed to the other side of the bed and took her hand and brought it to my lips.

“Ah dhia, what’s wrong?”

Geillis gave her as squeeze and a comforting look and left us to ourselves.

I took her place and embraced Claire.

She felt cold and distant, tears slowly rolling down each cheek.

“I can’t do this. I need to be free of this.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s too much. This connection with you, Randall, Dougal, this high wire act of a life. I can’t. I just can’t anymore.”

“Our connection should not be in the same list of the rest of that stuff. You know it’s different.”

“Is it though? I need some time Jaime. I’m falling apart.”

“Then tell me. Tell me everything. Let it out into the world.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll be here until you are ready to share.”

I held her for hours, and was thankful that she let me.

Geillis brought food and tea up as I tried to comfort Claire.

Eventually she slept.

——————————————

Geillis came to get me after a while, beckoning me into the hall. I was loathe to leave Claire but she seemed insistent. I hoped it wasn’t another offer to paint me.

She sat me down in the solarium, over a hastily prepared meal and gave me the goods on Jack Randall. She had used her considerable network and deviousness to provide some valuable information that would help us should we decide to show up at the shop.

—————————————–

I was back to Claire as soon as I could be. She woke when I got back into bed to hold her. She looked up at me with sad, confused eyes.

“Will you stay?” “Of course, Claire.” “I mean not with me, but in the house.” My heart fell. “Yes, whatever ye need.”

I stayed in the guest room and Claire returned to “her” room.

I missed her warmth, her whiskey colored eyes, her big arse, and the feeling of home. I knew she was just down the hall and it was excruciating but I was determined to give her what she needed. So I tried to sleep, on my own, filtering the information Geillis had given me.

I woke to the sound of the clicking door latch and Claire crawling into the bed with me. I didn’t say a word, just embraced her, happy that she came. We slept. 

In the morning we would plan.

——————————————-

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4 - Alfred’s Jewel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary - 
> 
> Jaime and Claire meet trying to steal the same painting for Dougal. Jaime is smitten, Claire is unsure. Years later, they find themselves involved in one of the biggest art heists in history at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Lightly intertwined with info from the Last Seen podcast about the heist.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - This chapter is not as clean as I would like but I need to bridge to the next part of the story. I’ve included prompts from week 31, 35 and 36 from @gotham-ruaidh writing workshop in the text. For the song prompt of week 35, I pulled out some lyrics that caught my attention and then worked them in.

————————————–

** Chapter 4 - Alfred’s Jewel  **

 

**J POV**

 

I woke with Claire diagonal across the bed, legs tangled with mine and the duvet. I laughed upon waking up because I had no idea how it was possible a human could be sleep in the state she was in. 

 

I inched myself closer towards her, and deepened the tangle by adding my whole body. She stirred, spent a few confused breaths trying to find herself in space until she eventually realized there was another person in bed with her.

 

I half thought she was going to jump out of bed at the sight of me. I tried to make myself small and unassuming, not an easy task for someone my size. But I wanted her to feel comfortable, to know I wasn’t a threat.

 

I was anxious to tell her what Geillis had shared with me the night before. Randall had a price on his head. We now had leverage on him. How we would bend that to our favor with Dougal remained to be seen but I knew once Claire and I could put our heads together we would figure it out.

 

Instead of running, she curled herself into my chest. My arms came to wrap around her, my lips pressing a kiss against her curls.

 

Coming out of her sleep haze, she eventually looked up at me, sighed and kissed my chin before settling back into my chest, her fingers lazily grazing my side. I looked down at her knowing she belonged exactly where she was, with me. I was baptized like a newborn in the static of our bodies.

 

“Thanks,” She said randomly.

 

“For what Sassenach?”

 

“All of it. Comforting me, taking me to bed, letting me sleep next to you without a word after I exiled you from my bed, coming to find me after the shop incident and for literally the best date I have ever had.”

 

“Yer welcome. I’d do anything for you…we do have a little matter to discuss between us though.”

 

Her head nervously whipped up off my chest, golden brown eyes boring intently into mine.

 

“Is that so?”

 

**C POV**

****

****

Waking up tangled with Jaime was officially the best way I had ever woken up in my life, not that I was willing to tell him that. I woke when his skin met mine. The intensity of it scared me at first but then I began to long for it when it wasn’t there. I lay between the dream and waking world for a bit longer enjoying the fire of our skin before tucking myself into him. He still felt like home, it wasn’t a fleeting feeling, I realized, as I listened to his heart beat. 

When he said there was a matter to discuss, I tensed. Still sleep weary I had no idea what he could mean, or rather, he could mean anything, so much had happened in the past few days. 

“Geillis shared some information with me last night while ye slept. Randall has a price on his head. He is hiding out in Scotland, trying not to get killed or captured. The Duke previously employed him in England for his own gang until he got tangled with an outfit from Eastern Europe. An operation went bad and he ended up torturing and killing a museum curator who wouldn’t give up the access codes to the museum storage and archives. The Duke was furious and sick of protecting Randall, so he wanted to turn him in, hence the price on his head. For that price he is wanted alive. The Eastern Europeans want him dead. He sullied their reputation, didn’t get the art and created massive problems for them causing them to go underground. The man is a right mess.” 

I swallowed taking it all in. I knew Randall was dangerous, so I wasn’t surprised at that, but I was surprised that Geillis was able to get the info. Clearly she was more connected than I had imagined or known. 

“Jaime, how does this help us?” 

“I dinna ken yet but I know we can figure it out. We have three days to figure it out if we are to meet at the shop on Friday.” 

“Do you think Dougal knows about him?” 

“No, my Uncle may be a dark man but he would never stand for putting his own people at risk for an outlander with a history like that, regardless of his skillset.” 

———————————————– 

We spent the next three days roaming the city, talking, brainstorm and planning. Our nights were alternately filled with Geillis and whisky or dinners just the two of us followed by falling into bed together. I was grateful my friend let us use her house as a sanctuary and she only asked me to paint Jaime one more time before giving it up. Thankfully she didn’t know Jaime painted as well otherwise I fear she would have asked him to paint her! 

I was still skittish to let Jaime all the way in and would often shrink away trying to separate and protect myself after moments when the depths of our connection were revealed again and again. He was patient and kind with me, probably more so than I deserved. I admired his faith in us as a team. I hoped I would be able to match him in it eventually. 

On Friday, we went to the shop early, to try to get Dougal alone. It worked, he was alone in the shop, always there before everyone else and always the last to leave. For all his flaws, the man was utterly devoted to his work, his work just happened to be crime. 

Dougal looked up from his desk hearing the door open and close. He smirked seeing the two of them walking in holding hands. He stood as they entered, his height matching Jaime’s inch for inch. 

I went into operation mode as soon as we walked through the door. We both had to play our role just right for this plan to work. I let go of Jaime’s hand and crossed my arms in front of my chest to show my displeasure at being there. We had to appear to be together but not on the same page with each other. I was supposed to be the resistant one, visibly against the plan. He had to think I was willing to let Randall screw him over thus emphasizing the familial connection Jaime had with him as the only reason he was helping. 

“Uncle, we ken you wanted to see us even though we’ve made our position clear the last time we saw ye. However, some information has come to light that I felt compelled to share with ye since ye are my only kin.” 

Jaime’s voice was unwavering. I silently marveled at how he could turn on and off his criminal mind. He was so gentle and loving and pure with me but he was also incredibly skilled criminally. He liked puzzles and crime is basically a puzzle you have to figure out whether you have all the pieces or not. 

“Out wit it then nephew,” Dougal growled at him. 

“Randall. Ye ken the Czechoslovakia job? It was Randall. He’s been on the run ever since. That gang has a hit out on him, and the Duke is trying to track him down as well.” 

Dougal’s face registered the job. Jaime had told me that Dougal and the Duke had history but what was worse was that the crew from the Czech job had wanted Dougal dead for years. The color started to drain from his face. He had clued into what Jaime would say next. 

“Randall is here to trade your life for his own, then take over your operations.” 

For the most part Jaime was telling the truth. The closer they stayed to the truth the easier it would be for them. The only lie was that Randall was trading his life for Dougal’s. But it wasn’t that far fetched which knowing Randall. 

“Uncle, we need to set him up. Get him out of the way, pass him off to the Duke. Do ye still have a back channel with the Duke?” 

“Aye, but it has no been used in a very long time.” 

“Good, make it active again. In exchange for letting Claire and I go freelance, with first refusal on jobs, we will help ye with Randall, we have a plan.” 

—————————— 

I never thought Dougal would agree but after the yarns Jaime spun to show him the way he submitted. 

Over the next three weeks, Randall would join us in the field, he needed to trust us and the best way to make that happen was to make it appear as though we all had each others backs. 

Dougal already had a job in motion that Jaime was to be a part of, so I joined in as well as Randall. Randall didn’t seem suspicious at all. He assumed it meant his boss had confidence in him, when in fact it was the opposite. 

The job was at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. A private collector had commissioned Dougal to steal the “Alfred Jewel.” A royal relic from the time of Alfred the Great. Dougal re-opened his back channel with the Duke and was able to get a man on the inside. The job was only one step above a smash and grab, once they had the man in place, but they still staked it out for more than two weeks to get the security patterns, and the lay of the land properly. It had to look real to Randall. 

**J POV**

It didn’t take long for Randall to get under my skin. The little annoyances I could deal with, but him making himself noticeable when we were trying to rob a museum (and set him up), I could not bear. It took all of a week for me to confront him. 

“I hear you’re constantly seen drunk in the middle of the afternoon,” I yelled at him, noticing his glazed eyes as as I screamed. 

“What’s it to you Fraser! I could pull this job with my eyes closed, I don’t need to be sober for that.” 

“Yer drawing attention to yerself, making yerself noticeable to the locals. Are ye trying to get us all pinched? Make yerself recognizable as stranger who spouting his mouth off? Stop drawing attention to yerself! And for godsake stay out of the pub, we have work to do!” 

“I’ll be sober by the time we go in, but not a moment before. You and the wench can deal with the particulars. I’m just here to watch you anyways, make sure you don’t run off.” 

I recoiled. Was my Uncle trying to double cross us? I had to talk to Claire, we needed a back up plan. My run in with Randall was surely not a coincidence. Was he even really drunk or just putting on a good act to get my ire up? Was it part of some other sadistic plan of his he was running on his own? 

Claire had kept her distance from me since we arrived in Oxford. She wanted to remain professional in the eyes of everyone we were working with but I longed to close the gap she created. Our skin hadn’t been in contact or in possession of each other since we left Edinburgh. My thirst for the touch of her skin on mine was never ending. I felt out of control without it, dehydrated. She was right there, but out of reach. 

I voiced my concerns about a double cross with Randall and Dougal to her. To my surprise she had already considered it, opened up her own channel with the Duke through Geillis and was creating insurance for us. In her distance from me she had been busy. God I loved her. 

Claire had also put a tail on Randall, to see if he was actually drinking every day or if it was part of wider plot. Her source reported back, some days he drank, others he was doing his job and sometimes he could be found in the paid escort of both men and women. Both of us shuddered at the thought of anyone having to endure the desires of that man. 

The night of the robbery, everyone was in position, including a sober Randall. Adrenaline running high, we entered the building through an unlocked door, hooded in head to toe black. We made a beeline for the Alfred Jewel, removed the case, replaced the weight sensors, and concealed the item before I was met in the back with a pistol. 

**C POV**

My disdain for Randall grew with every breath I expended in his presence. Hearing Jaime’s breath hitch, I turned slowly to Randall behind him and saw the pistol pressed into Jaime’s spine. 

“Hand it over. I’ll not let you two out of here with the haul.” 

Jaime, so thoroughly unattached to the item, sighed and turned to give it to him. It wasn’t worth his life. 

“You two think you are so smart with your whispers in corners and private conversations. Dougal will never let you go and neither will I.” He said pointing the pistol at Jaime as he backed away. Jaime stepped in front of me to protect me. 

A sound at the edge of the gallery made us all turn. The inside man, the guard, entered the gallery, flanked by three men wielding their own weapons. It wasn’t immediately clear who they were being pointed at until they got closer. They stopped, everything returning to static, all of us frozen in time 

“Randall, if you please.” The man said hand outstretched, walking into the light, revealing it was the Duke himself. 

Instead of handing over the gun and the artifact, he shot a warning shot in the air. 

A flash of confused movement and a second shot rang out. Randall slumped to the floor clutching his leg. 

“You shot me. I can’t believe you shot me,” he cried out. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that a long time,” the Duke replied with a smile. 

His men gathered a bleeding Randall, took Alfred’s Jewel, and walked out of the gallery without a word. 

Jaime stood stunned until I grabbed his hand and our flesh meeting woke him out of his daze. We ran out of the building, back to our station, changed our clothes and left Oxford in a rented car, paid for in cash under assumed names. 

——————————— 

“I can’t believe the Duke himself actually showed up. What a twist!” I said excitedly, as we drove through the countryside. Jaime stayed silent for a long time, clutching my hand as if it was his only lifeline to the world from the depths of his thoughts. 

I eventually stilled and settled as the adrenaline left my system. Jaime drove and I drifted off to sleep, waking when the golden rays of sunrise flooded the car. My now sweaty hand was still connected to Jaime’s. He had been holding my hand for near seven hours. Coming to from a surprisingly deep sleep I noticed where we were, Rosslyn Chapel. So close to Edinburgh, I wondered why we had stopped at the rundown church yard. 

“Morning Sassenach.” 

“Morning,” I said awkwardly and tried to separate our hands, but he pulled them back together. An unsettled wave washed over my body, he looked tense. 

“Jaime, what are we doing here? We’re so close to the city, why did you stop?” 

“I like it here. There’s something about it, its peaceful…Claire, I’m exhausted, I’m beaten up. I don’t want this life anymore. I need to withdraw. I once had nothing to live for, but now I do. You. I want to leave it behind us and move back to my ancestral home, finally repair it from the fire that killed my family. I want a different life, and I want it with you." 

“Jaime, I…” 

“Will you move back to the highlands with me? I ken ye have been fighting with yerself this month we have known each other in regards to me but I think in yer heart of hearts, ye ken we belong together. Let’s try to have a normal life, or normal for us. We can always take a job if we need to but ye ken I have enough money for now for both of us, between the painting and the stealing. Please Claire, say ye’ll move with me.” 

I paused. The answer I wanted to yell out was yes. He was right, I did know it in my heart. But I had never known any other life but this, being on my own, thieving. I had no idea if I could live a normal life or if I even wanted to. I had never considered it. Knowing what we had been through since we met, swayed me. How I felt when he was near me, swayed me. He kissed me, reading my mind, knowing my thoughts were eating themselves. Our lips parted, I stroked his curls bringing my hand around the line of his jaw, and looked into the fathomless turquoise. 

Yes, I’ll move with you…but no promises.” 

“Aye, I’ll take it, mo ghraidh.” 

———————————————- 

**Thanks for reading!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - A reminder that this takes place in the mid to late 80s and eventually into the early 90s. So Czechoslovakia was still a country at this point, it dissolved in 1992. Also Rosslyn Chapel was not refurbished until it the late 90s and got a big boost when it gained acclaim with The DaVinci Code, allowing it to be restored.


	5. Chapter 5 -Lallybroch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary -
> 
> Jaime and Claire meet trying to steal the same painting for Dougal. Jaime is smitten, Claire is unsure. Years later, they find themselves involved in one of the biggest art heists in history at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Lightly intertwined with info from the Last Seen podcast about the still unsolved heist.)

———————————————

** Chapter 5 - Lallybroch  **

 

**C POV**

 

Lallybroch was everything Jaime said it would be. Quiet, serene, away from the world, space for us to withdraw. We stayed in a small cottage on the property that Jaime had had built after his family died, but he had never seen it before, avoiding the homestead haunted with the ghosts of his memories and his kin.

It was perfect for us. We walked the property, got to really know each other, sharing every bit of our lives in our safe cocoon of Fraserdom. We made plans for the main house and got to work, doing what we could ourselves to clean the place out, focusing our minds on the task at hand, a strength for both of us. Hiring a team to help where we needed it. Our life of crime started to fade into the distance. At night we would discover anew the depths of our physical desire and connection in the four posted sanctuary. I had never been so free or relaxed or at home. A nagging fear that it was all a dream persisted in the deepest recesses of my brain but I silenced it with Jaime’s lips against mine.

The garden became my domain and I found I had a real knack with plants. I began to clear the wildly overgrown brush to reveal Ellen Fraser’s once beautiful garden. I pledged to restore it in full with the love and care she would have given to it. It would be my own small way to honor the woman who gave me the man I was quickly realizing I couldn’t live without.

Jaime and I fought, loved, planned, imagined and hoped in equal measure over those few months at Lallybroch. We were building a life, a life he dreamed we could have before I had uttered a single word to him on that ship. He waxed poetically about how he had wanted me from the first moment he saw me. It took time, but eventually I believed him.

Two months after living at Lallybroch, I realized I loved him but it took me another three months to tell him. We toured the garden hand in hand at sunset, checking on the progress of each flower and herb bed I had managed to replant. Tears rolled down his cheeks at the sight of his mother’s garden returning to vibrancy. A quiet voice floated up from the depth of my belly ,“I love you, Jaime.” it said.

He turned to me, wept, and embraced me, his tears pooling on my bare shoulder. I joined him. I hadn’t cried in years. Our emotional release led to a furious sexual release, an insatiable desire to posses each other fully knowing it would never quench the thirst of connection that existed between us.

A week after I told him I loved him for the first time he proposed. Down on one knee in the middle of the construction site that was the main house, where the library used to be, his turquoise blues bore a deeper hole into my heart to make way for more of his love than they already had. I said yes and flung myself at him and near suffocated him with my inflamed kiss. In the once and future library, we made love on the dusty floor surrounded by scaffolding, crying out at the top of our lungs knowing no one was present for miles.

I hadn’t known a person could be so happy. It almost felt wrong, forbidden, elicit. Pure joy at the sight of another person was not something I was accustomed to, but I embraced it for all I was worth. Nothing else mattered, my previous life, the loss I had experienced, the hardships, the nomadic unbelonging, I was finally where I was supposed to be.

**J POV**

Each day with Claire was a day I never expected to have. Each day was better than the last. Each breath I was happy to be alive. It was a far cry from having nothing to live for and flinging myself into every crime that came my way, secretly wishing to perish to join my family.

I knew I wanted to marry Claire from the first moment I saw her. I was mesmerized on that boat, but it took me a solid five months to work up the wherewithal to ask. After our first proper date in Edinburgh I had a ring made out of the only item I had left from Lallybroch, a key. I kept the key in my personal things, always, as a reminder of those I loved, and as a reminder that I had loved. I had the jeweler inlay sapphires into the simple band. They key was a symbol of my love for so many years and now it would be in the care of the only one I loved or ever would love.

After six months of intense renovations, we had barely made a dent into the master plan that Claire and I had devised in collaboration with our architect, John Grey. The ring had been burning a hole in my pocket for months as I tried to gather courage but with her admission that she loved me, I knew I could finally speak all the truths of my heart to her.

I didn’t make a plan, but carried the ring around with me the following week, waiting for the moment to be right. Claire wasn’t one given to big gestures so I knew when the moment presented itself, my words and our love would be enough.

After everyone had gone home for the day, Claire and I, walked through the house admiring the slow but steady progress. The house had to be mostly rebuilt due to the fire, no interior walls survived and the roof was long gone. The shell of stone that remained housed so many memories for me and it was often hard for me to be inside the remaining walls. But with Claire by my side, it got a little better each time I entered the house. Admiring the new stone blocks, up to historical code as required, we turned into what used to be the library and I knew the moment had come.

I took Claire’s hands in mine to help my nerves. I dropped to my knees like I had dropped something but stayed there looking up at her. It was clear that she didn’t realize what was happening as I looked at her face and saw my whole future there, our whole future.

“Mo ghraidh, I have never been happier in my life than in these past six months with you. You are my future, and I don’t want to be anywhere else with anyone else. I am in awe of ye and us together. Being with ye has been beyond my wildest dreams and having ye here at my ancestral home feels more right than anything ever has before. Will ye marry me? Will ye be my wife?” I said as I drew the ring into view.

Tears sprung from her eyes as she tackled me and the fire of her lips met mine. The plaid she had around her shoulders became our bed as we inhaled each other in a flurry of passion in the once and future library. Coming to, she admired her ring in disbelief, trying to memorize it. I told her the story of how the ring came to be and she was overcome, climbing into my lap, trying to burrow into my chest and further into my heart as my arms enveloped her fully. It was the happiest moment of my life.

Praying that she would say yes, I had invited Geillis to join us at Lallybroch as a surprise for Claire and now she could be the witness to our hand-fasting, an old but still honored tradition of pre-marriage/engagement. She was due in the following weekend, the timing perfect. She would be our witness and I still knew a priest in town that would perform it for us, as well as the ceremony recognized by the state.

Geillis drove up the following weekend and entered with all the bluster and animation that I had come to know her by. Colorfully dressed, elaborate scarf, wild red hair and a canvas in tow. Claire was in the garden when she arrived, fully immersed in her planting that she didn’t realize she was there until Geillis was in the garden with her.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, I find you here.”

“GEILLIS!” Claire screamed in shock as she embraced her fully. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Happy to see you too love…Yer Adonis of a man invited me. I’m here to get ye married!”

“Wait, wot?”

“Surprise, sassenach,” I said grinning wide.

 

**C POV**

 

I don’t know what I had done to deserve this man and I didn’t care as long as I had him. I mean who plans a surprise wedding a week after you get engaged and makes sure your only friend can be there? Jaime does. If I didn’t trust him with my life, I would have thought he wasn’t for real. I was ready and took the flying leap into life with Jaime.

The next day at sunset, surrounded by his mother’s reborn garden, we were joined in marriage. The white lace ribbon criss-crossed over our joined hands, his kilt rippled in the breeze and my simple white shift danced over my body. Without much prompting I was engulfed with emotion, as the priest hovered his hands over ours and repeated syllables that were barely recognizable. Jaime squeezed my hand and said, “say the words after me.” I whispered them back and would later find out they meant, “Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, ‘til our Life shall be Done.”

Both ceremonies completed, freshly minted as husband and wife, Geillis scooped us both up in a warm and welcoming hug. The priest poured the whisky and the four of us shared a toast. The priest began to speak one on one with Jaime in Gaelic while Geillis whisked me through the garden giving me ideas for my newly married life. I stopped her when she tried to describe a position that clearly required decades of gymnastics to be able to accomplish. The woman was incredible. She turned to me in all seriousness, clasping one of my hands in hers and said,

“‘Tis true ye are both retired? Really, really retired?”

“Yes, it’s true. We are leaving the life behind. We want to start fresh.”

“So ye’re really going to hold up here in the Scottish highlands and become a good little wife with bairns and all?”

“Erhm, children, um…well…we haven’t talked about it.” Geillis gave me knowing look that said, that’s usually a conversation that happens before marriage deary. It all happened so fast. But we had led a life of crime, would we be willing to bring a child into the world on the off chance we reverted back to our old ways? That question was sure to haunt me as I rode my new husband later that evening. But Geillis wasn’t done yet.

“My darling Claire, I say this with all seriousness, make a backup plan, or at least be open to running the odd job here and there if you get tight. Keep yer contacts, just in case. Talk to Jaime about it, tell him the same. Keeping yer networks open quietly, could be a life saver.”

Geillis didn’t know about Jaime’s “other career” as Alex McTavish and I planned to keep it that way, some secrets were worth keeping. But I did take her words to heart and made sure to remind myself to speak to Jaime about it later. I thanked her for her advice and being a good friend.

“And one more thing lovey, ye ken that house the two of ye of rebuilding…consider adding some chambers into the walls,” she said shrugging, “Ye never can ken when ye’ll need to store something priceless in a wall.”

I rolled my eyes and reconfirmed that we were indeed retired, slinging my arm around her shoulder and walking us back over the Jaime and the priest. Jaime looked a bit red in the face and I eyed him curiously. Something the priest said had gotten under his skin. When he saw us walk back over his face broke out into a full face smile, reaching his eyes, despite the red pallor of his skin. He took me in for a bone searing kiss right in front of the priest. Pulling away, I was sure I was the one that was the reddest of the two of us.

Geillis, Jaime and I went into town to celebrate with a meal at the local pub (the only place in town). I was surprised to see Rupert already at the table when we arrived, and so was Jaime. He hadn’t seen or spoken to his cousin in the months since we had left Edinburgh. I turned to Geillis, who bowed and said ye’re welcome.

Rupert stood, shaking Jaime’s hand profusely and pulling him in for a hug. “Congratulations cousin. May your marriage be a happy one filled with adventure in the world and between the sheets,” he smirked. Jaime smacked him on the shoulder playfully. Rupert turned to me, wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the floor. “Welcome to the family Claire.”

During our whisky filled dinner, it became clear that Jaime and I weren’t the only ones enamored with each other. An energy rose between Rupert and Geillis that made me wonder what had been going on since we left Edinburgh.

 

**J POV**

 

I couldn’t tell if it was my elation from marrying Claire or my “whisky happy” taking over but as I looked around the table I felt my heart could burst. But as the night wore on, I could think of nothing except taking my bride to bed and the surprise I had planned for her.

While we were satiating our bellies, I had our bed moved to a cave at the edge Lallybroch. The men were to stack wooden pallets to create a makeshift bed frame (one I hoped we wouldn’t break) and put our mattress on top, illuminating the cave in thousands of candles before they left. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Claire’s face.

I got a little antsy, and then a little grope-y under the table with Claire. I could see she was one part aroused and one part admonishing me. I dragged a finger up her lower arm, barely touching it, creating a cascade of goosebumps across her skin. I was about to stand up and announce our exit when I realized that her goosebumps had caused a bit of a stir. I released any contact with her skin and her gaze to compose myself.

With the stir settled back beneath my kilt, thank you sporran for helping, I rose, glass in hand. “Thank you cousin and Geillis for being here. It has been the night of dreams I didna ken I could dream. To my bride, I canna believe ye’re real. I canna wait to spend my life with ye. I love ye more than words could ever convey. Slainte. And with that, we are off. You two are both welcome at the cottage, there are two bedrooms but something tells me ye’ll only be needing one.” I chuckled, paying back Rupert for his earlier remark, as he went apple red.

I pulled Claire up into my arms, kissed her deeply and nearly dragged her out of the pub.

“Jaime, why are they staying in the cottage? Where are we going to stay?”

“I’ve a surprise for ye mo ghraidh.”

“Are we staying in the main house?”

“Hush, love, ye can guess all ye want but I’m no gonna tell ye.”

I brought her close to me and produced a blindfold from my pocket. Her expression was priceless.

“Just what do you think you are going to do with that?”

“I am going to cover yer eyes…and if yer lucky, I might use it for something else later.”

\---------------------------

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6 - An art show, a death and a punch in the face.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary -
> 
> Jaime and Claire meet trying to steal the same painting for Dougal. Jaime is smitten, Claire is unsure. Years later, they find themselves involved in one of the biggest art heists in history at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Lightly intertwined with info from the Last Seen podcast about the still unsolved heist.)
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------

** Chapter 6 - An art show, a death and a punch in the face. **

 

**3.5 years later**

 

**J POV**

 

I was terrified to tell my wife what had happened during my trip to Edinburgh. My trip was purely business, I was supposed to be in and out, no fuss, no muss. My paintings, still under the name Alex McTavish, had gained more popularity over the last few years. The latest show was at a larger gallery and I was to drop off the pieces and be gone before I could be seen by anyone from my former life. My cousin had other plans.

Rupert caught me as I walked out of the gallery my bonnet covering my now closely shorn red hair, an incident with plaster had necessitated cutting it during the last set of renovations on Lallybroch.

“Cousin,” he had called out. My head swung to my side at the sound of his voice.

“Rupert, what are ye doin here?”

“I have news and well, I figured out a long time ago that you are Alex McTavish. I can’t say how, but I just kent it.”

Sheepishly, I gave him a nod. I could not deny it, I was sure he had seen me carry the canvases into the gallery.

“Dougal is dying…”

“What?!” I yelled in shock. I hadn’t seen my Uncle in years, not since our last encounter before we fled to Lallybroch to start a new life. It neared four years since that time. I hadn’t kept up, I was still angry for a bit of time and then I simply chose not to care, happy in my new life and space with Claire.

“He’s been sick for a time, cancer, in his throat. It’s spread and they don’t give him much time. He wanted me to find you, see if you would reconsider taking over the shop. I told him you wouldn’t but how can I deny a dying man’s wish. He’s in hospital now if you want to see him. He is still lucid.”

The waterfall of emotions that washed over me, drowned me in place for a few minutes as I took in the information. Could I visit him? Did I want to see him? Would I have the strength to refuse him in person? How could I have not known, he was…is my blood.

“There’s more cousin.” I held my breath not knowing what else could be hidden in the Pandora’s box Rupert was opening in front of my eyes.

“Black Jack is free.”

“No…”

“He appealed and some judge let him out of prison on a technicality. He must have had the best solicitor money can buy because it was all bullshit. Some mess about being entrapped. The Duke is enraged and combing all of England for him to finish what he didn’t last time.”

“Think he’ll come for us?”

“I ken it’s a possibility, there’s no doubt he knows you and Claire set him up. Finding the two of ye is a logical step for him and his addled mind.”

I always knew this could happen but to hear it had and that we could already be in danger was still a shock. Rupert and I chatted for a few minutes longer before I decided it accompany him to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital to see my Uncle. I was conflicted but if both pieces of information were true and I had no reason to believe they weren’t, I had to gathering every piece of information I could on this trip and get back to Lallybroch as soon as possible to make a plan with Claire.

My heart stopped stepping into my Uncle’s room. Not only was my Uncle unrecognizably frail, but hovering over him was none other than Black Jack Randall. They were communicating with pen and paper as my Uncle’s throat was obstructed.

I froze as Randall’s gaze came to rest up on me. Once his icy eyes hit mine, I straightened to my full height, puffing myself up as a reminder to myself and to him, that I was the physically stronger of the two of us.

Rupert shifted from foot to foot at the awkwardness blanketing the room.

My Uncle waved me over, Randall gave me one more scathing look and walked out with their communication papers in hand. I was unsure what to do, but Dougal brought a dry erase board to his hand and began to write.

Jaime, finally. Will ye take over the shop when I die? I have but weeks to live.

Direct as always I thought. Looking right at him, I shook my head no.

FFS, just like yer mother, always a pain in the arse.

I gritted my teeth, knowing it was wrong to knock out a dying man, and held my cool.

Fine then, I’m giving it to Jack. He is loyal.

“Loyal?! Ye must be joking Uncle. He has been trying to swindle you from the first. Back when he was your number 2, he was trying to turn your men against you. Are ye really that blind? He is the devil himself.”

Well you don’t want it, so what’s it to ye.

Rupert could tell Dougal’s agitation level was getting too high. He placed a hand on his shoulder, from where he had been watching the exchange. Dougal scrunched his whole face in anger but then softened.

Dougal scribbled on the board again, his handwriting reflecting his mental state.

I’ve nothing left to say to ye. Leave.

“I’m sorry Uncle. I wish ye peace.” My shoulders slumped, I looked at Rupert, my eyes asking, is this for real, is this how this relationship ends? Rupert’s face, says go, calm yerself and I’ll calm him.

I stepped out into the hall and was met immediately with the icy stare of Black Jack. Perfect, just fucking perfect. I tried to walk passed him and he blocked me stepping too close.

“Fraser.” He growled at me.

“Randall.” I growled back.

“I know what you did and I’ll never forgive you for it. I’m taking over the shop and if you so much as enter anywhere near it, I will kill that lovely wife of yours.”

Fists balled, whole body tense, rage seeping from my pores, I noticed the charge nurse eyeing us with curiosity. I tempered myself slightly.

“If ye so much as touch a hair on her head, there will be no one who can save you from the torture I will bring down upon you. Ye thought the Eastern European gang was scary, just ye dare go near her and I will show you what true wrath is. Ye have been warned Randall.”

I stormed off, knowing the only reason I didn’t beat him to a bloody pulp then and there is because we were in a hospital with the staff watching us. The last thing I wanted or needed was to have the police called.

I considered finding him later, in some back alley in Edinburgh and unleashing the full power of my fists on him, but I had to get to Claire. I had to return to Lallybroch.

—————————————————

**C POV**

Over the last three years I had come to know my husbands face and moods so intricately, that upon first sight I knew something was very wrong as he walked in from Edinburgh. His features were etched in a thinking grimace that looked painful.

“Jaime, what is it?”

Startled from his depth of thought, walking into the completed section of Lallybroch, his eyes shown with an emotion I didn’t recognize. He reached out to embrace me, then took me by the hands into the sitting room off the entrance. Seated, he found his words.

“Dougal is dying…and…Black Jack is back.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

“I ken,” Jaime said looking at our intertwined hands, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. He paused before continuing.

“Rupert ambushed me at the gallery to tell me. He bid me visit Dougal in the hospital. He can’t speak so we communicated through writing. When I arrived, Black Jack was at his bedside.”

He recounted the altercation between him and Randall and his exchange with Dougal. I could feel the heat rising off of him as he told me that Randall had threatened me. I wanted to put a hit out on him immediately. I wasn’t prone to violence…usually…but Randall was a unique case. Truthfully, I found it hard to believe he hadn’t been killed yet by one of his plethora of enemies.

I was shaken, visibly. Jaime took me into the “man and a dog” armchair with him and snuggled me into his chest, kissing my forehead.

“I don’t want to leave Lallybroch. After everything we finally have a home, with each other and here.”

“We’ll figure it out love. We always do. As long as we are together, we can figure it out.”

Even in the darkest times, I always felt comforted by his words and his arms, even if I didn’t always believe the words. But I knew we were resilient as hell and would always do what we needed to, to stay together. The joining of our lives over the last 4 years, had had trials, but our love grew and grew with each day. We always found our way to each other. We could weather this latest scare.

————————————–

Dougal died a week later. Jaime wanted to go to the funeral even though we both knew it wasn’t wise. After a sizable fight, we decided to go. I would not attend the funeral, but would accompany Jaime to Edinburgh. I didn’t think it was a good idea for Black Jack who would undoubtedly be at the funeral to know that I was in town. It would make me a target after his threat.

We sought out a quiet guest house for one overnight, paid in cash, and resolved to be gone as soon as the service was over. Jaime begged me to stay put, in the room, just in case. I agreed.

 

**J POV**

 

I prayed Claire would listen, just this once and stay put. I was terrified that we were being watched and we were both out of practice at picking up a tail. The years in the highlands, I worried, had dulled our criminal instincts. 

The funeral passed without event until Randall caught my eye. He was glaring. It felt like Satan himself looking through me. I resolved to leave before I would have to have words and restrain myself again. Beating a man senseless in a chapel was a no no. I avoided him until he blindsided me after communion while I was praying.

Under the guise of praying himself, kneeling next to me. He passed me a note. It said, simply,

I have your wife.

My head snapped around to look at him, a smirk lacing his face. I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the small chapel. Immediately outside, I threw him up against the church wall, my forearm pressing into his neck.

“Harm me and she dies for sure.”

“Where is she? What have ye done wit her?”

“Easy, laddie,” he said mockingly, barely fighting back.

“Tell me, or I will gut you right here.”

“Well that wouldn’t help you at all now would it, since I know where she is and you don’t.”

He was right. I had to let the bastard live…for now.

Hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from him. I shook the hands free with a swat of my hands and elbows. .

“Ye’ll be coming with us,” a stranger said. I assumed the men were Randall’s henchmen.

“I have a proposition for you and the only way to get you to listen was to take your wife. I don’t like you and you don’t like me, but I need your skills. I’ll take you to your wife.”

I had no choice, it could be a trap, I could end up in the boot of a car or at the bottom of a river, but I had to find Claire, regardless of the consequences to my person.

—————————————————————

To my utter surprise, Randall and his men drove me to the guest house. Upon opening the door to our room, I was met with the wild and blooming bruised eyes of my wife. Her mouth was bound, as were her arms and legs to a chair. A pistol was pointed to her head. It looked like she had given fight, true to her nature.

It was hard for me to compose myself. Seeing her in such peril was like drawing a knife down the center of my body and splitting me in two.

Randall followed me in and stood to my side, arms crossed, smirk still in view.

“Now Fraser, as you can see, we have quite the predicament here. Your whore, gave great chase and fight, even put one of my men in the hospital, but as you can see, I ‘m a determined man.”

“She is my wife and you will speak of her with respect!” I yelled at him, letting my emotions get the better of me.

“ I don’t know why any man would bind themselves in marriage to a woman, especially to a such a slut as this one.”

Claire wigged in the chair, eyes full of fire. I was sure she would have hit him were she able. So I took it upon myself and laid a hand across his face.

His men were immediately on me, beating me, then holding me down on my knees before Randall. I needed to control myself if we were to get out of here alive. I stopped resisting.

Randall wiped the blood from his mouth, and then sucked each drop of blood from his hand back into his mouth. It made me want to vomit. The man was insane.

 

**C POV**

 

I watched the interaction between Jaime, Randall and his men, helpless to assist Jaime. Randall was a mad man. We had known it before, but each breath he took confirmed it. I had tried to free myself many times and was met with a blow each time, which precipitated the need for the pistol at my head.

Jaime now on his knees in front of Randall, held down by two of his men, looked towards me. His pleading eyes made me tear. A telepathic conversation passed between us, “it’s ok, we’ll get out of this, we’ll do whatever we have to do and then we will figure it out.” I nodded imperceptibly.

Randall grabbed his hair to lift his head and gave him a heavy punch in the nose.

Jaime’s face went slack for a minute before he regained control, and bore a hole through Randall with his eyes, blood gently trickling out of his nose. 

“Good I have your attention now.” Randall barked out.

“I’m finally free and I know you two were the ones who set me up. I thought about torturing you each to a pulp, letting one of you watch the other die, slowly. Which I’d enjoy immensely, but I want something else more.”

“What?”

“The Gardener. I want you to rob the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum for me in Boston.”

“Why would we do that? We’re retired, ye ken.”

“What I ken, is that you two are only retired when you feel like it. I’ve been tracking you. While you’ve only been pulling small jobs, your hallmarks are all over them. A painting in Budapest, the broach at the Vatican, the relic from Seville, need I continue?”

“No.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page. You will get me the paintings I want, or your secrets will be exposed and you’ll end up in prison. Not to mention, I have eyes on both Geillis and Rupert and the minute you two slip up, they get the torture I had planned for you.”

“Fine. We’ll do it.” Jaime said after a pause for consideration. I heard the pistol drop towards the man’s side as Jaime agreed. I let out a deep sigh of relief that was stifled by the gag in my mouth.

“One of my men, Foster, will accompany you to Boston and report back to me. If anything is amiss, I release the information and go after your friends. This job is called “Izzy’s Place.”

“Do ye have a plan or are ye just going to plop us down in Boston?”

“I know the name of the guard, who you can befriend, but that is all. That’s why I need you. You were always the mastermind behind Dougal. Now that he’s gone…this will be the last job. The haul will be so big, no one will ever need another job again and we can all go our own ways.”

I didn’t believe him for a second and I knew Jaime didn’t either.

———————————————-

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7 - Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary -
> 
> Jaime and Claire meet trying to steal the same painting for Dougal. Jaime is smitten, Claire is unsure. Years later, they find themselves involved in one of the biggest art heists in history at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. (Lightly intertwined with info from the Last Seen podcast about the still unsolved heist.) This story takes place in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I’m resurrecting this story! It is my only incomplete story and I plan to remedy that. It is the second story I ever started. I put it on hold because I was waiting for more episodes of the podcast to come out and fill in some more details of the heist. I’ve listened to all current available episodes but there hasn’t been any more lately. So I’m going to make some details up and weave in the real parts I can.

 

##  **_Chapter 7 - Boston_ **

 

**J POV**

 

The moment they left we collapsed into each other. Both shaken, only the touch of each other settling us. Separating, kneeling on the floor, I took Claire’s hands.

 

“It’s alright mo ghraidh , we’ll figure it out. We can do this.”

 

“I knew those little jobs were a mistake. They weren’t necessary. We got cocky in our need for the adrenaline of our former life,” she said, an anger rising in her.

 

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past. We have to deal with what is in front of us.”

 

She nodded unconvinced as she stood up and gathered our things. I followed her lead and we left in the following five minutes.

 

The drive back to Lallybroch was rife with intermittent tension filled silence and alternately, brainstorming and planning. I knew we were both worried, but I couldn’t let my unease show. But a funny thing happened on the drive, Claire went from worried to startlingly angry. As her emotion changed so did her ideas for how to pull off Izzy’s Place and then eventually screw Randall. It was oddly erotic to track her emotions and listen to her brain. I had always loved my wife’s ability to dive into stratagem.

 

I’ll always wonder why we didn’t just flee and call Randall’s bluff. Though we loved Geillis and Rupert, we loved each other more. If we ran, our stories would follow us, yes, but we were also very skilled at running undetected to some far corner of the earth. Maybe we had come to love our new home and  life too much. Plus the weight of having torture on our conscience was too much to leave it all behind. It was a notion that would linger in the recesses of my mind as we carried out the job over the next six months.

 

——————————————————

 

A loose plan in place, we flew to Boston with very few possessions. One of my contacts set us up with a flat, nay an apartment with a year lease. We paid cash for 6 months in advance to cover our basis. We needed to be able to work and plan without the distractions of everyday life as much as possible.

 

The plan was simple so far, Jack knew the name of one of the guards. We would start to track him, work our way into his circle, while, running a second angle through an auto-body shop in Dorchester. The auto-body shop was known to all of us to be a front for a significant amount of crime in the area. Jack had a contact there that would make an introduction for us.

 

I decided to handle the TRX auto-body shop alone. Something about that many criminals in one place made me nervous about having Claire there. Art thieves were one thing, but these people were next level and had no qualms about murder.

 

The guard, we would work together. Surveil him, get into his circle, find his weak points and exploit them. A mix of the two avenues was sure to yield a wider plan that we could set into motion. We set our goal date for six months, which for this type of heist was pretty short lead time, but we wanted it done and to be free of Jack as fast as possible.

 

Randall’s man, Foster, was on the ground before us. He had an apartment in the same building, easier to watch us by and meet with us in the dead of night if needed. As our third hand, he would be kept close enough to report back but not close enough to learn of the plan inside the plan to screw Black Jack. Claire had used her rage to cleverly devise the internal double cross.  

 

It was dangerous, but I knew we had been through worse. I knew we had to keep our eyes open for an inevitable double or triple cross from Jack. There was also the chance that he took Geillis and Rupert anyways or showed up in Boston at an inopportune time to muck things up.

 

Settling into Boston, wasn’t as difficult as I expected. We found a quiet routine that worked for us and lived the city life we had not been able to in Scotland. I painted most days, Claire became friendly with some of the Berkeley School of Music students. We went to the Gardener museum a few times a week under the guise of being a newly dating couple that both had great affection for the museum. It was a good excuse for when the staff eventually started to recognize us during our many times casing the place. Plus it was fun since our courtship had been rather short.

 

Within a few weeks, all parts of our plan were in motion. Claire had met the guard, named Bobby Higgins. She had been invited to a party with him that his friends were hosting. He said it was a music jam session (whatever that was), maybe with some booze and drugs and hanging out.

 

**C POV**

 

“Bobby this is my boyfriend, Jamie,” I said by way of introduction. We had decided not to let anyone know we were married, for a number of reasons but mostly to keep the overall cover in tact, including the newly dating story we were touting at the museum.

 

“Pleased to meet you. Claire has told us so much about you,” he said in a British accent.

 

“Yer English? Claire failed to mention that,” Jamie said, side eyeing me.

 

“Come let’s get some drinks,” Bobby said placing a hand on Jamie’s back and guiding us both towards the fridge and makeshift bar across the large basement where a collection of musical instruments was being set up.

 

Jamie and Bobby fell into an easy conversation and I participated, but from the outskirts. They talked chess, and music (Jamie was tone deaf but he was good at playing his part, he knew why we were there). Bobby took an instant shine to Jamie. I knew instinctively that there would be many future chess dates between them. Bobby it seemed was looking for a big brother, and Jamie it seemed would fit the bill. Jamie wouldn’t be happy about it, but he was going to have to pull one over on the sweet, naive guard.

 

Hauling Jamie back to the apartment after far too many drinks, I had to let my husband in on what he had clearly not noticed, but I soon realized how much he had indulged and decided to wait for the morning. I left him on the couch, wearing one shoe, most of his clothes, and snoring like he was a bull charging a red cloth. A gallon of water, and aspirin rested at his side.

 

When he joined the living in the morning I was sprawled on our bedroom floor, hair wild, surrounded by sheets of paper in full planning mode. Gripping my pencil so tight my hand began to cramp, I stitched together everything we had so far. I wanted to have a solid plan by the end of the week but first I would have to debrief my hung over husband about the night before and any information Bobby might have given him in passing.

 

“Claire, christ, I’m sae sorry, I dinna ken how I ended up so smashed last night. I swear, there was something in those drinks.”

 

“Well it is possible, there was quite an amount of drugs floating around.”

 

“Ye ken I would never get that drunk on a job.”

 

“I know Jamie, forgiven…now, we have a matter to discuss between us. What do you remember? Did Bobby tell you anything of value?”

 

“Love, yer never going to believe this, but ye ken, sometimes they bring the party to the museum. Can you fathom it?”

 

“Wot?! You can’t be serious. That hurts my art loving soul.”

 

“So I think the next time we get invited to one of their parties, we should be bringing it up and encourage them to go over there.”

 

I shook my head, taking in the inconceivable notion that parties were often moved to the Gardener. As a thief here to do a job, I relished it, but as an art lover, I silently admonished the museum for being so lax.

“Jamie, there’s something else you need to be aware of…”

 

“Aye?”

 

“Bobby, he’s looking for a big brother type or a best friend or something, some sort of strong male influence in his life. You’re going to have to play that angle from now on.”

 

“Well we have a lot in common, it’s not surprising he would seek out my friendship.”

 

“No, you don’t understand…you’re going to have to use him and cast him aside. I know you have trouble doing that…can you make it work?”

 

“Yer right, I don’t like to do that. Let me think on it and see if I can make it work.”

 

Jamie took some time, made us coffee and breakfast, and let me continue my furious but threadbare plan. Jamie it turned out was going to bear the brunt of the on the ground work, manipulating relationships. As a result, I became CEO and chief planner of the heist.

 

**J POV**

 

“Sassenach…I think yer right, what ye said about Bobby. I went over our interactions and he is looking for a male guide in his life.”

 

“I hate to say this because it seems so wrong but I think we might have to use that to our advantage. He needs to trust you and us more and more.”

 

I sighed, I didn’t like this one bit. He seemed a kindly man, maybe a little too mixed up in psychedelics but seemingly good hearted. The idea of using him was going to take some getting used to. I knew we would be using him when we met him but just to get into the museum not to emotionally mess with him. I liked the man and I loathed the prospect of the coming charade.  

 

Breakfast complete, I joined Claire in front of her pieces of paper. We spent the rest of the day drawing up our plan. The auto-body shop would be our muscle, gear provider and extraction venue. Bobby was our “in” for after hours at the museum and eventually the night of the theft. Some details were yet to be determined, but the overreaching arch of our heist was ready.

 

Having a better idea of what we would need, the next day I headed to Dorchester to finally get in with TRX Auto Body. Jack had provided us with the contact Lino, so when I entered, that is who I asked for, instead I was met face to face with the person I hated most in the world, Jack himself.

 

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_Thanks for reading!_


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